


K Y N K

by seulpapillonnoir



Category: Original Work
Genre: Aftercare, Angst, Assault, Betrayal, Billionaire, Bondage, Captivity, Dark, Dark Past, Desperation, Disobedience, Dissociation, Dom - Freeform, Dominant, Drama, Escape, Exhibitionism, Flirting, Flogging, Forced Orgasm, Friendship, Frottage, Funny, Humour, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Jealousy, M/M, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, Mystery, Obsession, Oral Sex, Orgasm Control, Other, POV First Person, PTSD, Restraints, Revenge, Romance, Rough Sex, Safe Play, Safewords, Seattle, Secrets, Sensation Play, Sensory Deprivation, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, Spanking, Trauma, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Wealth, Weapons, Work, badboy, blindfold, collaring, corporate, m/m - Freeform, mental health, sub-space
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:00:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21799525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seulpapillonnoir/pseuds/seulpapillonnoir
Summary: There was barely a foot between us, and he still hadn’t said a word. Instead, he’d just smiled that deliciously evil smile. The last smile you ever saw before your life surely ended.*     *     *Life for me before Elliott was simple. I led two perfectly normal lives until this... man (if we could really call him that) came charging right into them. Two halves of my world I never thought would meet, and now I was fighting to keep them apart. But I hadn’t been expecting *him*. This wasn’t supposed to happen to me.Falling in love was for fairytales... wasn’t it?
Relationships: BDSM - Relationship, Boss/Employee - Relationship, D/S - Relationship, Employee/Boss, Homosexual - Relationship, Kink - Relationship, Love/hate - Relationship, M/M - Relationship, Original Male Character/Original Male Character, Power Exchange - Relationship, dominant/submissive - Relationship, enemies to lovers - Relationship, gay - Relationship
Kudos: 17





	1. Ball & Chain

**Author's Note:**

> Please let it be noted that this story does contain some sensitive themes such as referenced childhood abuse and an instance of assault if these are difficult topics for you, please read with caution. Thank you!

Judging from my day job, nobody would likely have ever guessed the sorts of 'activities' I willingly engaged in within the bounds of my free time. Every morning I entered my office donning a pressed suit, perfectly arranged tie, with not a hair out of place (as per my employer's preferences).

At precisely 05:45 I was crawling out of bed to drag myself into the shower, and by 06:00 I was out for my morning run. By 06:30, it was a second shower, the whole morning spiel - and then a very reluctantly prepared meal before I had to dress for the day.

Yeah. I know what you're thinking. I sound like one perfectly boring, perfectly average twenty-something with more or less zero _edge_. Well, it came with the job. When you were working for Elliott Grimme of Grimme Enterprises (you know the one - the tall, drop-dead-gorgeous SOB with a penchant for all things _class_ ), there was little way to avoid it. Every employee, including myself, was expected to be of utmost quality, both in our work ethic and apparently, our sense of style. Something about _'impressions are everything'_ , or some shit. I'd honestly stopped listening halfway through the initial presentation because I'd heard this all before.

_Be innovative._

_Be exceptional._

_Be. . ._

And blondie lost me. The angry flock of birds crowing beyond the floor-to-ceiling panes to her rear were far more entertaining. I couldn't tell you how many songs I'd recalled to memory during the entire ordeal just to keep myself awake, either. Plain and simple - I hated meetings. I hated discussing them, I hated scheduling them, and I most certainly hated attending them. This one was no different.

As you've probably guessed, this wasn't my first day. No, this was more like my third-and-a-quarter-century-of-suffering day. I'd already been through sixty thousand hours of about the most painfully un-stimulating job training sessions since probably ever.

Whomever was responsible for the travesty that was their HR management was going to receive a strongly worded letter from yours truly. Luckily, I'd recently familiarised myself with the proper format required of the company for all official correspondence. I'd send them a lovely little _"fuck you very much"_ with a cover letter addressed " _to the sadistic tyrant of HR"._

It was obvious that none of them necessarily enjoyed doing what they did, but company policy was company policy, I supposed. Even if it was an exceptionally unimpressive one.

Now with all the bitching I more or less had been doing, my lack of intrinsic motivation must have been all too evident, but my responsibilities were not something I took as lightly. I was responsible for acting as the secretary beneath the chief secretary. She was a woman of about what I guessed to be thirty-six - detached - and had a serious obsession with doves. Since the first day we had become acquainted, I had steadily taken notice of this fact, be it a brooch, a barrette, or the graphic that had been brushed onto her favourite mug.

Whatever, everyone had _something_ , I supposed. Who was I to judge? In comparison, I was the _last_ person to be passing judgment on the interests of others.

When I'd greeted my small office - a branch that stemmed from the office of the chief secretary - I was only mildly disappointed by the simplistic state of it. At the very least it was a clean, organised space, albeit intensely minimalist. Then again, it was perfect. It would be easy to keep the place clean, and so long as I kept everything well organised, the lack of ample storage space could be overcome.

I seated myself quickly, whipped out my Mac, and powered it up with a long sigh. Apparently, my first assignment was to re-organised the financial reports to be later delivered to my employer at a rendezvous that evening. I had about three hours until that deadline after wasting more or less an entire day in a chair that had become intimate with the planes of my body in ways I didn't care to recollect.

All I knew was that an appointment with a very skilled masseuse would be in order once this was all over. I'd even skipped lunch - not having been able to find it in myself to consume any of the brunch selection that'd been offered - and now the decision was coming back to haunt me.

_Damn_ this. It was a mess - the entire thing - from top to bottom. Whomever had put together this report was sorely lacking, and it was almost too evident. It probably wasn't their fault, and I chalked it up to stress, but there was no way I was re-organising anything remotely related to the rubbish I'd been struggling to make sense of for at least a half hour.

At that point, I had two options; the first was to BS a report and let the original author take a lashing. The second was amassing all of the necessary information and composing a new one. Needless to say, I went with the second option - even if my stomach was eating itself into nonexistence.

I slaved over it for the next two hours, not including the time it took to request the necessary documentation and pick it up from the archives. I ended up finishing with ten minutes to spare, thankfully, and tucked it into a neat little dossier for the chief secretary before stalking my way into her office. Perfect. Now she wouldn't have to worry about-

She was _gone_.

I checked in the adjoining lobby for our departmental floor, the employee lounge, and even asked a couple of the other secretaries if they had seen her.

Not being one to panic, I sucked in a deep breath and considered my options. Where had I _not_ checked - the ladies' restroom excluded?

Still musing when the gentle clearing of a throat caught my attention, I'd slowly turned to peer down at the secretary stationed nearest our office. She was pretty, with large hazel eyes and chestnut coloured curls. They were gathered up into a chignon, as per company standard, but a few errant locks tickled at her cheeks.

"Mr. Mordecai, she's in the office with Mr. Grimme." She explained, holding up a finger whilst she murmured into the receiver. ". . . _yes, of course. I'll send him right in._ Mr. Grimme would like to see you now."

I blanked. Mr. Grimme?

She must have realised I'd spaced, because in the next moment she'd been clearing her throat again, nodding in the direction of the big boss' quarters.

_Mr. Grimme would like to see me now?_

I hadn't been expecting to come face to face with the man, at least not anytime soon. I was the secretary's secretary, and by default that didn't give me very much standing within the bureaucracy here. Why he could possibly want to see me was beyond a mystery. Unless. . . had she mentioned the report? Maybe I was about to have my arse handed to me - well done with a side of unemployment for screwing things up within my first week. Was the report really that late? No, I wasn't panicking. I was always this sweaty and pressed.

Every step I took weighed heavier and heavier on my heart. Was my tie straight? We're my glasses sitting properly? Had I crushed my suit? I found myself checking these things over carefully, even going so far as to take down and re-do my hair for good measure. At that point, there was little else that I could do to look more presentable, so I sucked a deep breath in through my nose and very hesitantly pushed one of the french doors open.

What met my eyes was almost unbelievable - too remarkable to really exist. His office was spacious - sprawling, even with a very modern yet artistically sleek atmosphere. I envied it. I envied the beautiful floors, the leather seating arrangement I was sure felt like butter to the touch, and most of all the city-scape beyond the floor-to-ceiling panes of his office. Already twinkling with the arrival of the evening hours, it was dazzling.

Worst of all, though, was the magnificent creature seated behind an impressive, neatly organised mahogany desk. He was clad in a suit that must have been expertly tailored, his hair carefully arranged in a manner that suggested that not only was he as charming as he appeared - that he was conscious of the ever-present need to look _professional_. His steel blue eyes were piercing, vibrant - lips perfectly sculpted.

Everything from the set of his brows to the line of his nose and the angle of his jaw could render one speechless.

They had let _this_ become a businessman? This had to be cheating. Who wouldn't say _yes_ to anything he demanded? He probably could've had anything he wanted, right then and there, with just the snap of his fingers.

I swallowed hard. I wasn't ready. This was too soon. Was it too late to run?

"Come in, Mr. Mordecai." He insisted.

_Yes._ I mentally hissed. Aloud I said, "Yes, of course, sir." I shut the door behind me the moment I'd been able to recall how legs operated, still hugging the dossier containing my report to my chest.

"Mrs. Stone has informed me that you were charged with the task of revising the final draft of the financial report. Correct?"

I nodded, catching myself a moment too late. "Yes." I wasn't sure why, but for a moment, I felt intensely self-conscious.

"May I _see_ it, Mr. Mordecai?"

_Mr. Mordecai_. . .ugh. I sounded like my father. "Ah- yes, of course." I glanced to the chief secretary, striding forward to offer the documents as requested. I could've sworn I'd caught a smirk hiding away in the corners of his perfect lips and my tie suddenly felt too tight.

"Mrs. Stone, if you'll excuse us." He said politely, offering her a smile I was sure might've put anyone less frigid in a coma. Her name must have been Stone for a reason, though, because she'd simply risen with an ever polite "yes, Mr. Grimme" before departing the room.

It had yet to register with me until the door had shut that she had left me alone with this man.

"Please - have a seat."

"Yes, thank you. Also, Ezra is fine." My attempt at politeness was delivered with not nearly as much confidence as I'd been hoping. Instead of standing there like an idiot, though, I at least had the sense to sink into one of the delicious leather chairs before his desk. Sheer bliss.

Crossing one long leg over the other, he'd begun to flip through the report, brow furrowed in concentration as he examined my work. This was it - he was going to fire me. I was going to get the boot and I had barely settled in.

"Mr. Mordecai, did you write this report?"

_Oh, hell_. "Yes, sir, I did."

More silence, more apprehension. Was this his game? If he was going to fire me, he might as well have broken the news to me already.

"It's quite detailed. What do your present duties entail, Mr. Mordecai?"

"Really, just Ezra is fine. I'm responsible for the tasks assigned to me by Ms. Stone." He laced his fingers, expectantly, so I cleared my throat and began again. "I'm expected to handle tasks that vary from report composition to scheduling, proposal review, basic clerical tasks, and correspondence."

If he was impressed by any of that, he never showed it. I could have sworn I'd seen amusement dancing in his steel blue gaze. It had raked over my features once before, but now they seemed to be studying me again. I vaguely wondered what he must have first thought when I had entered the room.

I only stood at 174 centimetres with sable tresses that reached my mid-back and turquoises eyes that I hid mostly behind dark thickly-framed spectacles. Today, my hair was done up, just as it would have been expected to be for a secretary. He must have been thrown for a loop seeing my chignon. I had yet to see any other men here with hair length exceeding more than a few inches. I was an anomaly.

"You pulled together this report just now?"

"Yes."

"In under three hours?"

"Yes."

"This is based upon months of documentation."

"Correct."

He straightened up in his chair, then rose in one fluid motion to stride about the desk. Watching him travel was something magical. Every step was deliberate, demanding of attention. No wonder he was so successful. That was the sort of confidence that could conquer nations.

"How long have you worked for Grimme Enterprises, Mr. Mordecai?"

"Three days." I murmured this just as he had settled onto the edge of his desk. From a closer vantage, he was almost intoxicating. I had to do my best not to lean back into the leather, as far away from him as possible.

"It's my present belief that you don't belong in your current department."

_Here we go_. I thought. _He's going to light my ass up and fan the flames with the report I just handed him_.

"I understand, sir." I didn't, but I would accept it.

"Good. Then, first thing starting tomorrow, you'll be transferred to accounting. This report reflects a greater understanding of those mechanics than most we have in that department presently. Mrs. Stone and I were actually discussing your qualifications, per your resume and transcripts."

If I'd had any coffee, this would have been the perfect time to spit it out in surprise. " _Accounting?_ "

Tilting his head, Mr. Grimme regarded me as though he'd just discovered the newest object of his amusement. "As I stated. Problem?"

Was he _laughing at me_? Why? "None whatsoever."

"As it should be. Now go - we'll have your new office sorted out shortly. I'm sure it was explained to you that we carefully examine your work ethic during the probationary period of your employment."

Excuse the fuck out of me. Wait, had I just been _promoted_? For what? Without really knowing what more to say, I rose with a polite nod and marched myself back out of his office. I could feel his eyes bore holes into my back the entire time and slapped a hand over the hairs that'd risen at the nape of my neck.

I was in way over my head, I could feel it, and come the following Tuesday - exactly a week from my appointment - I had already been regretting my lack of decision to refuse the promotion.

Accounting was absolute hell, and just about all of my energy had been spent keeping things together. It felt as though I was doing a one-man-show and no amount of coffee seemed to make any difference to my state of exhaustion. Luckily, however, my lunch break had just rolled around, leaving me free to depart the office for the next hour - or so I thought. Before I had even fully shrugged into my pea coat, a pair of expensive Italian leather loafers had sauntered into view. I followed the trail up a pair of dark grey Armani suit pants, a matching waistcoat, and white pinstripe shirt until my eyes had settled on the face of a certain Elliott Grimme.

Elliott _sodding_ Grimme. This was all his fault, completely.

"Mr. Mordecai." he greeted, tone casual.

I held back a scowl. How dare he be friendly?

"How are things coming along?" His stupidly beautiful eyes were taking in my workspace, but if he had any thoughts on it, he never said a word.

_Terribly_. "I have it all under control." I lied. "Nothing that can't be done."

"Of course not. After all, I'm sure you're quite capable." He mused, turning his gaze back onto me. The intensity of it was something I hadn't been expecting. I'd lifted my own from the endless stacks of documentation to regard him proper and found that his eyes had been intently trained on me. I wasn't sure what it was about them, but immediately my anger had melted away, replaced instead by an acute awareness of his scrutiny. I could feel as they appraised every inch of my face, and I was painfully aware of when they had moved on to have a look at the rest of me. It didn't take long for me to begin to fidget, but almost as abruptly as he had appeared, he had been stating that he would take his leave. It left me confused and just a little disappointed. No matter how nervous he made me when he was present, the moment he was gone, I felt a hint of that familiar dismay arise.

Thankfully, it wasn't like I had only Elliott Grimme and my newfound bane of existence to focus on. It was friday, so I would have the weekend to myself, and I had been looking forward to that since hearing that my schedule would be better balanced. I knew precisely what I was going to spend it doing, too - and where. It was _perfect_. Exactly what I needed after a week like this one, and I was lucky enough to have maintained my member status for all of these years.

* * *  
Bathory Estate was just a two hour's drive out of Seattle, Washington, where I'd spent the better part of four years after moving from Los Angeles, California. It was a magnificent, sprawling estate - one of the most resplendent I had ever had the pleasure of visiting.

The moment I'd parked and retrieved my overnight bag from the passenger's seat of my little black mazda, I was climbing out to peer up at the estate's main house. The manor was beyond words, and I lost my breath to awe alone, gaping up at gothic arches - the impeccably detailed masonry. Such a profoundly severe degree of beauty was the only reminder I needed of why I'd found this place to be so addicting. Once you drove in past the looming, spired wrought-iron gates, you had entered an entirely different world.

Here, I was Ezraeil - addressed most typically by my full name, and only by the pet name of Ezra by my companion submissives.

I'd climbed the stairs in slow procession, greeted by the familiar face of a man named Allaen. He was tall - taller than I ever guessed a human being could manage to be - and his luscious waves were heavily threaded with silver. His facial features, however, were especially young for his age. I hadn't actually seen him look any older in recent years, but nothing really surprised me. As far as we were all concerned, Allaen would live forever.

He was the head butler of Bathory Estate, and my escort up the stone steps that would land us at the pair of immaculate french doors awaiting us. He'd taken my bag, ushered me in, and almost immediately had begun leading me off to my room. My memory did the interior of the manor injustice. As compared to the images my mind had managed to cling to for all of this time, it was entirely magical. "So lovely to see you again." He offered, bowing an arm for me to thread my own through, striding alongside me with a relatively serene expression.

"I nearly thought you'd forgotten us." added Allaen.

"Nonsense. It's just work that's kept me away - mostly." It was true to an extent, but it had been that much among other things.

"Well, it does soothe my heart a bit to hear that from you." He explained as we traversed polished marble floors. Every one of our steps echoed across the warm expanse.

"I wouldn't have stayed away for so long if I didn't think I had a handle on things. Trust me, my return is much needed, though."

"Well, that is why we remain here."

Why that made me laugh, I wasn't sure, but it was the first real laugh to bubble up out of me in a long time. "I don't know what it is about you, Allaen, but I really don't think this place would ever be the same without you."

"I'll take that as a compliment." He informed me with an amused glance from the corner of his eyes.

We had climbed the stairs, arm in arm, until we'd reached the main hall and had taken a second set of stairs toward the rear of the manner to the Eastern wing where all of the submissives dorm'd.

The moment we'd reached my room, Allaen had unlocked the door and I'd immediately bee-lined for the bed, tossing myself in a sprawl onto the perfectly laid black satin. Near instantly, I'd regretted making a mess of the perfectly made bedclothes, but it felt so particularly delicious beneath my exhausted form that I couldn't bring myself to get up again.

Allaen set my bag down near a pretty chaise lounge, shut the door behind himself, and at last had allowed me to revel. This was what I'd been dying for all week - to at last re-assume the identity that freed me from the complications of the real world.

That's right. I, Ezraeil Mordecai was a _submissive._ And I was home at last.

* * *

This had to be a dream. There was no way in this life or the next that I was actually seeing this right now. I was almost positive that at some point during my short nap, someone had dosed me, because drugs were the only explanation for what I was witnessing before me.

I'd changed after a bath earlier in the evening and had napped until around dinner time, having more or less spent my time lazing about to regain all of the strength that work had sucked out of me. I couldn't believe how demanding it was. Even with my last boss - who had been considerably less agreeable - I hadn't experienced such horrors. I probably wouldn't have had as much to complain about if I was lazy, though.

I'll concede, had I been lazy, it would have been fair, but that couldn't have been farther from the truth. It seemed that every time I managed to get a handle on things, Mr. Grimme was piling on one more task for me to complete - ordering me about as if I were some poor house wench.

Still, I never complained. Not even when I'd contemplated refusing his orders altogether. He was so _demanding_. I had to wonder what his relationships were like. Likely high maintenance and too stressful for my tastes. Not that I'd ever really had much of a relationship. I'd dated, sure, but never anything serious enough to count as one. Either way, I was in borderline 'forever alone' territory and painfully aware of that.

When I thought about it, though, I'd more or less become one of those guys who were 'married to their work'. Grimme seemed to always need something - things he was better off requesting from his _secretary_ , and not an employee stationed way over in the faraway realms of accounting.

One call was all it took, and there I was - rushing to his office to hear the next request. Picture clearing up a little? If it wasn't coffee, it was retrieving one of his suits from the dry cleaners'. Before long I'd be walking his dog and ironing his boxers. Did he even have a dog? He seemed like the type - a Great Dane or some other fancy breed suited his style.

Snapping out of these thoughts, I returned to the present and tucked myself around the corner of the hall I'd just been planning to venture down. I' would've made my move by then, too, but the last person I'd ever expected to see had turned up at Bathory Estate--perfectly _uninvited._

_Elliott Grimme_.

What was he doing here? I could feel the frustration bubbling up in my chest, burning hot in my ears. When I left work, he'd still been in a late meeting, so the fact that he was standing at the other end of the hall, chatting so casually with a man I recognised as one of the marshals, was completely infuriating. Was he _following_ me?

The marshals were responsible for overseeing all of the communal spaces and were posted throughout the estate to ensure that all of the rules were followed - that no foul play was going on. I watched the brunet laugh along to something he had said before wandering off in the opposite direction. Elliott Grimme turned toward me, tucking his hands into the pockets of his jeans. _Jeans_. I'd never seen him in casual dress, but now that I had, it was fair to say that he definitely knew how to wear a pair.

_No. No, Ezra. He's the enemy - focus._

Yeah, fat chance. I was too busy watching him glide down the hallway. So busy, in fact, that I'd completely forgotten to hide myself. He was magnificent, and the fitted tee that clung to his cut physique left very little to the imagination. Every stride he took was as powerful and deliberate as the ones I'd watched him take the very first time I had ever met him. The shift of muscle beneath lightly tanned skin, the impeccable posture, that _grace._ I wanted to slap myself, but I was too damned star struck to be knocking sense into myself, in that moment or the several to follow.

Before I could fully tuck myself back against the wall, he spotted me. In fact, it was likely safe to say I'd been given away the moment he turned to head in my direction. Suddenly, there was barely a foot between us, and he still hadn't said a word. Instead, he'd just smiled, that deliciously evil smile - the last smile you ever saw before your life surely ended. My eyes honed in on his lips, on the perfect dimple that taunted me. Swallowing hard, I lifted my gaze up to meet his, and all of my frustration melted away. Well. . . the only kind that mattered. Tension coiled in my belly and I tucked my trembling fingers behind my back.

" _Ezraeil._ "

"Mr. Grimme." I wasn't sure what about this was so amusing to him, but he chuckled once at my response. My cheeks grew hot. He _was_ laughing at me - just like the last time.

"Elliott is fine. Just Elliott."

_Just Elliott, huh?_ I tried to find the right words to speak, but the only thing that could come to mind were, "How are you-"

"-here right now?" He finished. "By car, of course. I arrived a half hour ago."

"Yes, and- _why_?"

He stepped forward, and I stepped back. Every time he would advance, I'd retreat - until my back hit the wall. Until he had me cornered.

Elliott leant forward, placing a hand to the wall nearest my head, the amusement never leaving his expression. " _Why_? I can't be here?" He challenged.

_Damn it_. _It was a trap!_ "Well, no, that isn't exactly what I meant--"

"The better question, Ezraeil, is what _you're_ doing here."

_I knew it._

"You must have been surprised to see me." He offered.

He was too close. My heart was ready to practically jump out of my chest cavity, and my palms were too hot - clammy from nervousness. I folded my arms low, trying to seem indifferent and likely failing. "Maybe a little." _Pathetic._

"Well, I'll make it easier on you. Let's start over. Practically strangers. There's no reason why we couldn't just happen across one another under those circumstances, right?" He offered.

"Start over?" Boy, I was dense today. The rumors were true. Hot guys made you stupid. You forgot all sorts of shit. At this point, I was already losing my grasp on the English language.

"Elliott." He stated, offering me his free hand to shake.

"Ezra." I answered automatically, reluctantly grasping it. _Holy damn._ The current that shot through my fingers sent a thrill up my spine. This was dangerous - I had to get out of here, pronto. "Pleasure to meet you." _Shut up, you fool!_

"The pleasure is all mine." he purred.

Oh, God. . . I was going to faint. There was no question I was going to faint. I had to pull in slow, deep breaths just to make sure I could stay upright long enough to end this conversation.

This was the first time I had ever encountered Elliott Grimme outside of work, and it was at the estate, no less. I couldn't fathom - didn't know if I even wanted to - his purposes for having made the trip all that way. How could he have possibly known where I'd be? Stalking was the only sensible explanation that came to mind.

Whatever. I took the quickest escape route I could and made up some stupid excuse about punctuality. Much to my relief, he didn't argue, and I was grateful not to have to explain myself further. Not that having him linger behind me on the way to dinner was much help to my nerves, though.

Long after the sun had set and I'd tucked myself into bed, I allowed myself to puzzle it out at last. Finally, I had confronted the reality that Mr. Gri- er, Elliott was here. . . _here_ . . . and staying in the Western Wing. The _Western Wing_. Only Dominants were permitted to stay there. I had seen it only once, on my very first tour of Bathory Estate, and hadn't set foot there since. Earlier in the evening, when we had parted ways after dinner, I'd watched him ascend the staircase that would lead him to the so-called _forbidden_ land.

Elliott was a Dominant. It dawned on me suddenly and sickeningly.

He was _here_. He was . . . my boss.

_He knew._

All this time spent with him and I'd been blind to overlook the one fact that actually _mattered._ Elliott Grimme knew my secret. He knew I was a submissive, and that fact wouldn't change even when we returned to Seattle.

Foolishly, I'd given him my personal mobile number, as part of our 'newly found friendship' and I felt a ball of dread form in the pit of my stomach.

What was I going to do? I'd have to see him at work - would he hold this over my head for the rest of my time at Grimme Enterprises? Was this going to turn into some fucked up game of blackmail? I couldn't be sure about all of these worries, but I recognised one thing.

Deep down, despite how I hated to admit it, it was a little thrilling. Meeting him here was the first time I'd ever encountered anyone from my life back in Seattle, and so far as I was concerned, he was the only bridge between the two lives I was attempting to lead.

Maybe I was being a little dramatic. Realistically, I knew something about him, too. I knew he was a Dominant. Elliott Grimme, most eligible bachelor, undeniably successful playboy of the business world, was into kink. I wasn't sure how heavy into the lifestyle he was, but it was enough that he was _in_ it at all.

Then, it suddenly occurred to me: had he come here with anyone? The first person to pop to mind, disturbingly enough, was the chief secretary. I happily crossed her off of my list when I recalled the wedding and engagement rings I'd noted on her finger once. Perhaps he had come alone, looking for something to take his mind off of work things just like I had. It could have been as innocent as that. Somehow, my mind wasn't buying it, though. He didn't even remotely strike me as the 'innocent' type. And more importantly, what were the chances that he'd have turned up _here_?

I was still mulling this all over when the face of my phone illuminated in the darkness of my room. I didn't know what time it was, but whoever it was had better damned well have a good excuse for SMSing me at such an ungodly hour. Prepared to be annoyed, I snatched the device from the end table and swiped the notif to view the hidden text.

_Anonymous:_

_'Asleep?'_

_Anonymous_? Who in the hell- ah! I'd nearly forgotten. I'd given Elliott my number. Shit tended to quickly slip my mind when I was running on pure force of will. Debating whether or not to respond, I settled back into my pillows. What would be the harm in a little conversation? It wasn't like it was going to make a whole lot of difference one way or the other. By Monday I'd be back in the office, working eight days a week.

Succumbing, I tapped into field and typed out a short response.

' _Not yet.'_

I hit send, let the phone drop to my chest. It buzzed not more than thirty seconds later. Damn, he was quick.

_Anonymous:_

' _I didn't think so. Tell me, why are *you* here?'_

Why was I here? Why was _he_ here? What the _fuck_? I couldn't say any of this, of course, so it was plan B: the truth. Like it mattered now. I'd been caught already.

' _I just come here sometimes.'_

_Anonymous:_

_'For whom?'_

_'For me, of course. Why did you come here?'_

_Anonymous:_

_'I was just curious. Did you come here for a Dominant?'_

What part of that was his business? I wanted to be cheeky - give him a smartass answer and turn my phone over to silence it. What did it matter if I'd come here for a Dominant or not? More importantly, what did it matter _to him_? Exasperated, I tapped out my response, likely with a little too much enthusiasm.

_'No. I did not come here for a Dominant. Any particular reason why you're asking?'_

_Anonymous:_

_'Like I said... just curious. It's late - sleep now.'_

I couldn't believe it. Was he really not going to give me a straight answer? How was that fair?

_'That's not much of an answer.'_

_Anonymous:_

_'Goodnight, Ezraeil.'_

My heart skipped a beat, and I cursed it. What was wrong with me? I didn't know a thing about Elliott Grimme (you know, besides the fact that he was ridiculously attractive), and there was no excuse for this. Frustration had me tossing the phone across the bed and stuffing my face back down into my pillows. I needed a vacation. A real one. Maybe I could call up my best friend Jung and ask him about it. I wasn't sure even he would know what to tell me. He was my best friend of well over a decade, roommate for three of those and counting, and just about the most intelligent human being I knew. His wisdom would have been useful right about then, but even he was too far away (and likely sleeping already).

Sighing in defeat, I pulled a pillow over my head and attempted to count sheep - anything to take my mind off of Elliott Grimme. By three AM I had fallen asleep at last.

* * *

Monday arrived sooner than I would have liked, and it was back to the grind. I woke up that morning to Muse's _"Panic Station"_ filling our two-bedroom loft and had to admit it was something of a pick-me-up. I sauntered, barefoot and too tired for life, out of my bedroom and into the kitchen area. Jung was in his boxers and a Steve Aoki graphic tee, scrambling eggs and hip-thrusting in time with the beat.

"Dude."

"Oh, shi- you scared the hell out of me. Morning, Cinderella."

"Uhh, you mean Sleeping Beauty?"

"Whatever. They were both princesses."

Lee Jung-Min - graphic design major, musical genius, the best personality you'd find this side of the earth and my best and closest friend.

"When'd you get back?" He asked, wiggling his nose to relieve an itch just as he was scooping eggs onto a plate already occupied by a slice of buttered toast. He shoved it toward me with the spatula and it slid right into place.

"Thanks," I murmured when he slid me a fork, too. "Sometime around eleven. There was a tonne of traffic. What are you even doing up?" I asked, turquoise gaze shifting to the digital display of the microwave. It wasn't even six yet.

"Pulled an all-nighter, got hungry so I figured I'd make breakfast. How was the trip? Get laid?" He asked with a conspiratorial smile, crunching into his toast and leaning in close enough that I couldn't _not_ laugh.

"Unfortunately, no. Not this time around." I reached up to push my fingers through hair I was sure must've looked like a rat's nest already. "But you won't believe who I ran into."

"Mm?" His brow cocked.

"Guess."

"If it wasn't Ruby Rose, I don't give a fuck."

"You know she's gay, right?"

"Doesn't mean she's not hot. Come on, who was it?"

"Elliott Grimme."

I watched his eyes widen, his hand go slack with the toast. "Elliott Grimme?" Jung abandoned the toast, tossing it down on the plate, and I immediately snatched it up to steal a bite.

" _This_ Elliott Grimme?" He held up an issue of _Riche_ and I nodded, still nibbling at his toast.

"Get the fuck out."

"No lie, he's a Dom."

Jung's eyes bugged, then his brows furrowed and he grabbed the toast from my fingers. "Did you fuck'im?"

I choked, fixing him with a horrified look. "He's _my boss_. The most successful fucking I did was when I fucked right off of the property Sunday evening." I licked the butter from my fingertips and slid from the chair I'd settled onto. "I'm gonna get a run in before I lose anymore time."

"What? The story was just getting good! Breakfast?" Jung called.

"Burrito, please?"

I heard him start in with an irritated 'uuughhh', but it only made me laugh. He always made me laugh. If there was one person I could count on, it would be Jung. He was taller than me by about ten centimetres if I had to guess, had ink-black hair and eyes the colour of chocolate that always seemed to be smiling. For as long as I'd known him, there wasn't a day when he'd failed to raise my spirits.

As soon as I got my compression tights on, a t-shirt, and a hoodie, I pulled on a pair of socks and shoved my feet into a pair of running shoes.

Seattle was misty that morning, but it was refreshing. The suspended moisture cooled my face and clung to my hair as I took the pavement, earbuds plugged in and Jon Bellion at mid-volume.

By seven, I'd already returned to the loft, showered, dressed and departed for work with my breakfast burrito in tow. I ate it on the way, careful not to drop anything on myself, and bought coffee before I'd reached the parking deck of Grimme Enterprises. I was still sipping when I arrived at the lift in the main lobby. I pressed my ID to the sensor, scanned my fingerprint and stepped in to be whisked up to my respective floor.

I greeted the departmental secretaries on my way in and dropped off a box of doughnuts for them before making my way into my office. Even if I wasn't into women, there was something undeniably cute about them when they were happy.

Before I'd even had the chance to lower myself into my swivel chair, my phone had gone off. I groaned, fishing it out of my pocket and swiped the display to life.

_Anonymous:_ (1) Unread Message

You had to be kidding me.

I opened it without expecting much, but to my surprise, it was actually business related. Apparently, Mr. Grimme was requesting my attendance at a board of trustees meeting and wanted me to bring along the updated report I'd been pulling together, as well as the long-term projection of profit for Grimme Enterprises.

This time I didn't even bother to respond. My phone was returned to where it had once been and I gathered the documents I would need into one neatly organised dossier, silently praising my meticulous habit of adding coloured tabs to everything.

I arrived in the main conference room ten minutes later and found that Elliott was already there. He didn't look up from whatever it was he'd been reading when I entered, so I moved to an empty seat nearest the projection screen - farthest away from him.

Fine. If he was going to ignore me now, then we had nothing to talk about. I was even successful in seeming a little bored, until all of the board members had arrived for the meeting and real work needed to be done. It was quick and easy - really more of a formality than anything, and I was happy to promise the reports would be sent to each of them by the end of it. Elliott hadn't looked at me once - reading over the mystery document that'd been holding his attention so intensely.

Why did I even care whether he paid me any attention or not? I barely knew him. With this in mind, I rose from my seat and gathered my papers before setting a straight path for the door.

" _Wait.._ " He said, raising a hand.

I did, much to my own surprise.

"In my office."

I stood, confused, dazed. His brows were furrowed, one leg crossed over the other, and he was the only one still seated in the otherwise empty conference room.

"Go." He waved me off.

And I went, not pausing even once before I'd come to the doors of his office and had pushed my way in. Just like I had on several other preceding occasions, I dropped into one of two leather chairs before his desk and waited.

Ten minutes passed before I heard the door open and had turned to gaze at Elliott Grimme over my shoulder. He was toting some file, which he'd tucked into a drawer and locked away before seating himself on the edge of his desk.

"Ezraeil."

"Mr. Grimme. You wanted to see me?"

He smiled, lacing his fingers, and left me to wonder until he had straightened from the edge of his mahogany desk in favour of loitering near the glass panels that overlooked Seattle.

"You attended Harvard Business School?"

This was about my credentials? "Yes, that's correct."

"With a full ride, no less."

"Yes. Correct again." And this had to do with anything, how. . . ?

"What was your major?"

"Business Administration." I fired back.

"Your graduating GPA?"

"A 4.0, officially."

He turned to me again, tucking his hands up behind him. "Mrs. Stone will be leaving us soon."

"Really? I mean. . . already? Is she okay?"

"She's fine. Familial obligations. This isn't news, really."

"So. . . you already knew she would leave."

"Yes." He confirmed, taking a seat in his chair at last.

"I'm sorry, I'm unsure where this is going exactly. Surely you didn't call me here just to discuss my academic background?" _What the hell do you want?_

"When I first transferred you to the Department of Finance, you adjusted well. Your work performance has been admirable. Was it challenging?"

Was this a test? Did I have to lie? "Yes." Too late.

"And do you enjoy challenge?"

"Always." I answered, so quickly that I immediately felt embarrassed. It dissolved into masked irritation when I realised he was laughing at me again, with his ridiculously gorgeous eyes.

"Good. The reason I called you here is because I need someone to take Mrs. Stone's place, effective immediately."

"Me? Why?" The words left me before I could stop them.

He cocked a brow, steepling his fingers. "Isn't it obvious? Out of . . . three potential candidates, you were the most qualified. I also took into consideration the experience you've accumulated from your previous company of employment, and for those reasons, I am appointing you as my secretary. Does this displease you?"

I could sense the challenge in his question and immediately felt defiance rise in myself. "No." Elliott Grimme would not get the best of me. I refused to lose.

He smiled, leant forward to place a forearm across his blotter and fixed me with a level gaze. "Good. I look forward to seeing how you fare."

Straightening up, I neatly folded my hands in my lap and regarded him with what I hoped was the same unreadably professional expression I'd seen him pull on several occasions.

" _When do I begin_?"


	2. Fifty Shades of Gay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second chapter in Ezra's wild adventure working for Grimme Enterprises! 
> 
> "Elliott’s fingers gently wrapped about my wrists, fingertips brushing across the veins there before he slid them overhead - pinned gently under the warmth of his palm, his face inching toward mine until I could feel his warm breath. My lips parted, lids falling shut..."
> 
> Whoops! That's all you get, haha. Not to worry, though, there's plenty where that came from.
> 
> -Papillon

I was going to kill him.

Since I'd been appointed as the chief secretary of Elliott "Just Elliott" Grimme, life had become far more complicated that I'd been anticipating. When he'd more or less challenged me to accept the position, I'd accepted out of defiance and hadn't taken the time to consider how _horrible_ of a decision it could be.

Well, here I was, several weeks later, draped over my desk with an empty tumbler in my grasp. The stress was real.

During those two months, I'd learned two things very well; for one, all adults were liars. Work was not fun. It wasn't even remotely enjoyable, especially if you happened to work for an overly demanding prick. And two, it was actually possible to be too exhausted for sleep itself. I hadn't had a proper night's sleep in nearly a week, what with all that'd been going on, and my body was suffering the consequences. If I had the energy, I'd have strangled Elliott where he stood, but I could barely curl my fingers tight enough to hold a pen, so carrying out that vendetta would have to wait.

Until then, I would be whispering sweet nothings to the blotter cushioning my head.

By eleven, I'd been relinquished. Jung practically had to carry me to my room, under the impression that I was heavily drunk. I didn't have the energy to explain that I was just drained. Yeah, if someone could lock me away in a stasis chamber for the next two hundred years, that'd be great. The sleep would be well beyond welcome.

That night, I slept in my clothes. It was the best sleep I'd gotten all week - the sort that was so deep you didn't even have the pleasure of a dream. I snoozed long into the afternoon the next day, grateful for the fact that it was Saturday and that no work was required of me. When I awakened, it was to find that I'd half-undressed myself and had one new message awaiting my attention.

Bleary-eyed, I swiped over the notif and squinted at the tiny text.

_Anonymous:_

_'What are your plans for lunch today?'_

Elliott. The last person I wanted to hear from on my day off. Couldn't this fool take a hint? I wanted to _sleep_. I wanted some _peace_. I wanted-

My stomach made some sort of angry, inhuman noise and it was followed by the horrid cramping that only came with serious hunger. Right. I'd been subsisting on coffee for the majority of the week, and last night had been no exception. I'd worked through lunch and dinner, then I'd had the nerve to sleep my way through breakfast. When I typed my response, I was careful not to sound too interested. No need to invite more conversation.

_'Undecided.'_

Ha. If a one-word message wasn't enough to imply I wasn't exactly up for chats, I didn't know what else would be.

_Anonymous:_

_'The Peacock an hour from now. Meet me.'_

Groaning, I checked the time and inwardly scowled. Elliott was going to ruin my day off.

Instead of dwelling on that fact, I dragged myself out of bed, stripped out of my work clothes, and tossed them into a nearby hamper. A quick shower later and I was feeling a little more human. Face washed, teeth brushed, hair combed - there, now I even looked civilised, not that he deserved it. I guess I still had an image to maintain, though.

I kept it simple with a pair of close-fitting black jeans, a Pogues band tee, and a cardigan. Onto my feet went a pair of combat boots, and I'd left most of my hair down, save my fringe, which had grown out in recent months. I tied that section up into a little ponytail and took my leave, slapping a note on the fridge for Jung just in case he wondered where I'd gone.

Out in the city, it was chilly. I instantly regretted not having pulled on something a little warmer, but it was too late. I lived close enough to The Peacock that I could walk, so I wandered down the pavement with my shoulders hunched and hands buried deep into my pockets. At the very least, it wasn't raining today - or raining _yet._ One glance up at the darkening sky told me all I needed to know.

The Peacock was a classy little two-tier establishment with a full lounge and bar on the second floor. Much to my surprise, Elliott wasn't up there, clearly, because he'd been instead posted out front and looking ever so nonchalant beneath the day's gloom. Had he actually waited for me? Oh, this was going to be good.

I decided right then and there that he wasn't going to get off easy and marched my ass right up to him. I had to put on the best displeased expression I could and make him feel guilty for dragging me out on a day that was supposed to be solely mine and mine alone.

"What is it now?" I knew it sounded rude, but I wasn't in a polite sort of mood.

"Well, I was going to offer to buy you lunch, but if you're busy, I can find other ways to spend my time." He said, oh so matter-of-factly.

 _Shit_. Okay, stupid decision, but he was still dead wrong for disturbing me. "Oh. Well. . . I guess since we're already here, it's fine."

Elliott opened the door before me and I strode in with a quiet thanks, unsure what to make of his gesture. We found a table, parked ourselves at it, and a waitress soon came by to set us up with menus. Elliott didn't even bother to look.

"Do you eat meat?"

"Yes?"

"We'll have two of the organic roast turkey and aged white cheddar over multigrain ciabatta, spinach, no lettuce, tomatoes, vegan spread, no mayo."

_We would?_

Elliott smiled at me. "You'll love it."

"Coffee?" She asked.

"Tea, please." He'd stepped in before I could catch her, and in the next moment she was gone, leaving us to chat amongst ourselves.

"Do you always order for your lunch dates?" I could feel the annoyance bleed onto my features.

"Only when I'm nice." He quipped, offering one of his signature smiles.

"Speaking of which, I'm still not even entirely sure why I'm here. Did you need something?" _Besides my foot up your ass?_

My words must have struck a nerve because he didn't say anything for several moments, as if re-evaluating the situation. Why I bothered to say anything at all was beyond me, but I quickly followed up with, "I mean work related. Is that why you called me out here today?"

Chuckling, he shook his head. "No, not at all. Actually, I felt badly about these past couple weeks. Thank you for being so resourceful. I'm sure you must be exhausted?"

"You have _no_ idea--" Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck! I'd forgotten for two seconds who I was talking to. This couldn't end well.

Elliott laughed - an actual laugh, dimples and all, and it was the first time I had ever seen his features so bright. His eyes lit up like nothing else when he laughed, the perfectly sculpted features of his face managing to look even more handsome when he smiled. This was just pathetic. My emotions were so fickle today.

"You're certainly different." Okay . . . ? Good thing? "I like different- thank you- it's more amusing than with any of my previous secretaries."

"So glad that I amuse you." I said without an inkling of inflection.

Elliott slid the glass of chilled green tea toward me and I sipped. Oh, God it was refreshing. I almost hated myself for how much better it felt to have this rather than the coffee I'd been originally plotting on.

"So, what is this? Is this you bribing me to stay? Scared I'll quit?"

"This is me thanking you. Why, were you thinking of quitting?" He did that thing with his brow - as if he were daring me to say 'yes'.

"No, but I'm going to need another day off soon if you're going to keep working me like this."

"Deal. What else should I know?" The way he twisted the straw between his fingertips was distracting.

Wait - backtrack - he wanted me to actually talk? Definitely a turnabout from just slamming me with demands. All my brain could come up with in my confusion was "Huh?".

"What do you like - not like? Is there anything that you want?"

There was too much I wanted. And why was he being so nice? This felt like a trap. "You mean about my job?"

"Well, yes. Then again, I guess this is supposed to be a social meeting, so let's move on to something that isn't work related. Tell me about your interests."

"My interests. . . well, I like to read - I do some photography. Um. . . I can play the piano?"

"Brilliant." Was it?

"Sometimes I go drinking? Clubs. . . movie theatres?"

"Sounds fairly typical."

"Well, what were you expecting? It's not like I'm a part time arsonist. I'm not sure how exciting my personal life could really be."

"Tell me about your preferences, then."

My preferences? "I don't follow."

"Bathory Estate."

I choked on my tea. Clearing my throat helped a little, but we still got a few looks. "Wh- Grim- Elliott, you can't just say that anywhere."

He scoffed. "Why not?"

"Because it's not exactly PG, you know? God."

I watched him glance about the cafe and shrug. "I don't see any children. Why avoid the question?"

"Says the man who never answers any of mine." I snapped, sipping at my tea a moment later to cover the awkwardness.

"You said you hadn't gone there for a Dominant, so what are your preferences?"

"Honestly, I'm not sure." And I wasn't. "I've never exactly participated. Watched, sure. But I've never been part of the scene. Mostly, I go there to unwind and spend time with people I'm familiar with, I guess."

Whatever I'd said must not have reached him, because he seemed to be musing intently on something. "You're telling me you have no idea what your preferences are?" I wasn't sure if it was a good thing for him to look so surprised, but it made me nervous.

"Right."

The waitress brought our sandwiches and for just a few moments had successfully put the conversation on hold. I was only too grateful. For the next half hour or so, I did my best to keep my mouth occupied so that I didn't have to answer anymore of his invasive questions. I even felt like I was succeeding - until Elliott had opened up his mouth again.

"I take it you're attracted to men?"

Another opportunity to choke, but this time I at least managed to nod. "Women don't exactly inspire anything in me. Is that relevant?"

"I'm not sure yet." He answered plainly before biting into his sandwich, an odd twinkle in his eye.

Oh, how I would have given anything to terminate this conversation. Luckily, there wasn't much talk after that, but once we'd finished lunch, he had insisted that we visit the aquarium.

While I didn't exactly see the harm in this, it did seem a little fishy - what with the spontaneous invite (pun definitely intended). I was almost certain it would just be another opportunity for him to ask more of his stupid questions.

Except . . . he didn't say much of anything. Elliott seemed to be more focused on the sea creatures that surrounded us than any small issue with my preferences or otherwise. It wasn't until we came to the jellyfish that he'd even given me a second look. The last couple of people moved on to the next exhibit and left us to stand in silence.

"Ezra."

"Hm?"

"Wouldn't you agree that all of these beautiful creatures have a place? Somewhere they belong?"

"In the domain of the sea? Yeah, sure, I'd agree with that." I replied cluelessly. Foolishly.

"Isn't it only fair that you learned yours?"

 _What?!_ "If I knew my place?" I could hear the shock in my voice, my face numb, and before I could register what was happening, I was lurching forward and being spun around, back pressed up against the glass.

For a few long moments, Elliott didn't budge, as if gauging whether to pull away. My eyes darted about the dark space, barely illuminated by the blue light of the tanks. Everyone really had gone. "You just seem so... lost. You don't even know what you want." He murmured, referencing our earlier conversation.

Oh, shit. He was too close - too close to my face. I could see all of his handsome features in stark definition despite the ambient lighting, from the length of his lashes to the curve of his lips. _Goddamn_ he was beautiful. My pulse picked up, and the closer he drifted, the harder it was to breathe. I licked my lips and swallowed hard, but the words wouldn't come out.

Elliott's fingers gently wrapped about my wrists, fingertips brushing across the veins there before he slid them overhead - pinned gently under the warmth of his palm, his face inching toward mine until I could feel his warm breath. My lips parted, lids falling shut, but before his lips could fully press to mine, he'd withdrawn and released my wrists. A couple of people filtered through but only one of them stuck around.

"Let's go." He declared, sliding his hands into his pockets before he'd turned to stride back from whence we'd come. I was still in shock, a finger pad brushing over my lips. It had barely been a kiss, but every inch of me had reacted. I knew no-one would be able to see in such dim lighting, but I could feel the warm flush of my skin. Before I left the jellyfish room, I had to skilfully adjust myself. Nobody needed to see that. My hardon was nobody else's business - least of all the jackass who'd left me hanging with it.

When we emerged it was already evening. Elliott offered me a ride home, and for lack of a better suggestion, I'd accepted. It was a quiet ride to my place, but before I had the chance to get out of the car, he'd caught me by the wrist. It was gentle, no more than an unspoken request for a moment more.

"Think carefully on what I said." It wasn't optional, apparently.

"Right." Too bad I was thinking more about what he looked like with his clothes off. "Thanks for lunch."

Elliott smiled, fingers releasing their grip. "Anytime."

Right now - in this car - that sounded good. Pressing my lids shut, I got myself together and stepped out at last. He didn't drive off until I disappeared inside, and I took my sweet time getting up to the loft. I wasn't sure I was ready to really sit and sort through everything that'd just happened.

* * *

That evening I'd crawled into bed after a Netflix binge that I didn't dare to repeat. At last, I had calmed down. My mind was clear and I had every intention of filling up my Sunday with activities of _my_ choosing. This mental compilation was interrupted by the chime of my phone. I half-expected it to be Jung, drunk-texting me that he couldn't come home tonight.

 _Wrong_.

It was him again.

_Elliott: (Yes, at last I'd named him.)_

_'Are you asleep yet?'_

Sighing, I clicked into the response field and answered with a simple _'no'._

_Elliott:_

' _Call me.'_

Sorry? Had I misread? _Now_? What time what it? A quick glance to the corner of my screen told me that it was nearing midnight already.

There was always the option of ignoring the text, but then I'd never know what he wanted from me. It was the only reason, I convinced myself, that I'd hit the call button and pressed the phone to my ear.

_"Ezra."_

_"_ Yes, Elliott - you do know what time it is, right? _"_

_"I'm fully aware. Are you using a headset?"_

_"_ No - why? _"_ My confusion must have been obvious even without visual.

_"Fetch one."_

Fetch? He wanted me to _fetch_ one? I was his secretary, sure, but I didn't think it'd get this far. I was nobody's dog. Even if I did lean over to my nightstand to sift through my drawer and pick out the neatly wound pair that'd come with my phone when I'd first purchased it. Plugging them into my ears and then into the audio jack, I set the phone off to one side and fell back against my pillows again, sliding down until I was comfortable enough to talk.

 _"_ Okay, now what is it? Is this going to be a long conversation? _"_

_"You'd better hope so. Let's play a game."_

_"_ What kind of game? _"_ I demanded warily. I still believed entirely that Elliott was capable of some serious evil.

_"We're going to pretend for the next-- ten minutes, that you belong to me."_

I shot up, unsure if I had heard him correctly. _"_ Belong to you? _"_

The only response he offered was him, but it was enough to clue me in that he was dead serious. _"You can object, of course."_

As tempting as it would've been to reject him, curiosity was getting the best of me. I only hesitated a moment more before assenting. "Fine... I'll play your little _game._ "

 _"Lie down."_ He ordered, and for just a moment, I tossed a glance at the window.

Honestly, I wasn't sure I wanted to, but I did anyway. Didn't mean I wasn't still horribly nervous about where this conversation was about to go.

_"Lights off."_

I sighed. This was ridiculous. "Okay, lights are off."

_"Now close your eyes, and keep them that way."_

"They're closed." I didn't know if I could take this seriously, or I was at least trying not to. Elliott's voice was just as delicious as it was in person filtered over a phone connection. It was criminal.

_"What are you wearing?"_

"Er- a pair of boxers and a t-shirt."

_"Slide your hands up beneath your shirt - slowly."_

Okay, now I was _really_ getting nervous, but I did it anyway. "Now what?"

_"I want you stroke your nipples with the tips of your fingers."_

Ridiculous. I knew this, and yet I slid my hands up to my chest, fingertips brushing over my pierced nipples. I'd forgotten how sensitive they could be. I shivered, exhaling sharply through my nose.

_"Pinch them."_

_Oh, God. . ._ My breath caught in my throat. I was sure I must have been red from head to toe already.

 _"Harder_. _"_

"Ah-" This was too weird. I couldn't wrap my mind entirely around the idea that this was my boss on the other end. And worse, I couldn't believe I was actually doing this.

_"Now take your right hand - and slide it down into your boxers."_

What the hell was this?

_"Touch yourself for me."_

"Elliott--"

 _"Play the game, Ezra."_ his tone was dark, but it only made the prospect all the more enticing.

I drew in a deep breath and mentally prepared myself for what I was about to do. I was already all wound up, so there was no doubt this would end badly. It wasn't like he was forcing me, too, though. In the back of my mind, I knew I could easily end this game of his.

I'd reached into my boxers and began to fondle myself, sighing involuntarily.

_"Stroke yourself."_

Oh, God . . . he was really going to listen to all of this. I knew this and went ahead with it anyway, fingers stroking slowly at first, gradually picking up the pace. I moaned, lips parting.

 _"Faster_."

And I did, hand working faster, until another moan left my lips.

 _"_ _Ezra_ _. . ."_

My brain wasn't completely making sense of what he was trying to tell me. My breaths were already coming short, hand stroking needily. _How could I be enjoying this?_

 _"You have no idea what I'd do to you_. _The way I'd take you._ "

"God--Elliott--"

_"I'll show you."_

All I could think of were his hands on me - Elliott between my legs - his mouth on my-

" _I'm gonna' come_ -" I barely managed. Goddamn it, where was the mute button?

_"Come for me."_

_"Fuck--"_ I could feel the warmth that spread over my hand, my hips rolling forward. Christ - what had I just done . . . ?

My eyes flipped open in the darkness, chest heaving as I caught my breath when I heard a quiet chuckle filter over the line. " _Sleep. I'll pick you up tomorrow afternoon._ "

Whatever I said after that was enough, apparently. A moment later the line went dead. I shut my eyes, trying to comprehend what I'd just allowed myself to do. I was waltzing right into his trap, and worse, he hadn't even needed to convince me. I must have had a soft spot somewhere in my skull, but I didn't have the energy to search for it.

* * *

The next day was one long train of discomfort and confusion. I was feeling anxious from the moment I'd first gotten out of bed that morning because I knew that before long, the afternoon would roll around and Elliott would be calling me up.

"You know," Jung started in from the couch. "You could just say _no_."

"That's the problem - even if I say no, it's not like he'll listen. It's a word that probably doesn't see much use with him."

"All the more reason to put his ass in place. What are you, his escort? What is he _summoning_ you for all of a sudden?"

Jung had a good point, and he seemed to know it, too. What he didn't know, however, was what had gone down the night before, and I wasn't about to openly explain all that to him now.

"We have unfinished business, anyway." Hopefully by the end of our meetup, though, some clearer lines would fall into place. I _refused_ to let myself fall for his antics again. I realised that up until then, I'd been springing to act on every little order he'd given me. I could refuse him. Absolutely. Elliott Grimme was in for a surprise today.

* * *

When he'd picked me up that afternoon, I was determined to find an opportunity to put my foot down.

"Look, I don't know what you're up to, but if you think that I'm just going to do this whenever you ask-" He ushered me into the car, shut the door, and left me to sit in silence for several moments.

The moment he got in, I turned my glare on him. He didn't even so much as flinch. "I'm gonna take you sailing today."

"Well you know _what_ , Ell- wait, what? _Sailing_?"

"Put your seatbelt on." was all he said, turning over the engine.

"You're not going to explain?"

"No." He offered me one of those smug little smiles of his, leaning over me to reach for the buckle and strap of the safety belt. He was close enough to kiss, mere millimetres from my face, our breaths mingling. Heat coiled in my belly, one I was becoming accustomed to feeling whenever Elliott was within two feet of me.

Then, he took us away from the loft, and I spent a majority of the drive with my eyes glued to the window. If he took me somewhere shady, I had to know where to tell the cops they'd find his body.

We arrived at the docks not too long later. Elliott got out and for the first time, I realised he was actually dressed for the occasion while I was. . . in torn jeans and a Ramones t-shirt. It didn't seem to make a difference to him, though, because before I knew it, we were leaving the car behind.

"I'll show you my boat."

 _His boat?_ "Wait, you have a boat? As in . . . not a rental?"

"I sail." he said so matter-of-factly that I almost felt stupid for asking.

"Of course you do. . ." That shouldn't have even come as a surprise.

"Come on." Elliott took me by the wrist and led me away, helping me onto the deck when he sensed my nervousness.

" _This_ is your _boat_?"

"Well. . . yacht."

"I know what it is. Seventy-foot, monohull. . . is it fast?"

"Very. You know boats?"

"My dad's kind of a pirate."

"That explains a lot." He quipped, smirking.

The last time I'd seen the docks, I'd been praying that I didn't regret the decision to leave dry land with this man, but the moment we'd hit open waters, I'd practically burst with excitement, arms spread.

Wind whipped at every inch of me, blowing my hair up into a whirlwind of black fire whilst Elliott took care of the steering and I bellowed out into the wind. I'd always thought that I could understand how it must've felt to fly - the incomparable high that one experienced. I was experiencing it in those moments, arms spread on the bow of just about one of the most impressive racing yachts I'd ever laid eyes on. What was more, Elliott looked like a scene straight out of a movie - dark hair whipping in the wind, sunlight reflecting on his perfect teeth, dimples ever-present, and those steel-blue eyes . . .

I should've realised it then, but I was slowly succumbing to the powers of his persuasion.

We cut about several times, and I took care of the sails when the winds picked up, at least pleased enough to show off what my dad had taught me. It wasn't like I needed to impress Elliott, but if he was going to show off his yacht, then I was going to at least be on my game.

Two hours had passed before we'd returned, windswept, and my heart was still out to sea. I was sure it would take a while for me to come down from the high, but while I was still more or less walking on air, I wanted to revel.

"Hungry?" Elliott asked casually.

"Starving." I answered without thinking.

"Say no more."

* * *

Really, the entire evening was panning out to be a fantasy realised. I'd been dying to get back out onto the water, and now I was being taken out to dinner at one of the best seafood restaurants Seattle had to offer. I could barely contain myself at dinner, and I hardly felt sorry about it when were back in the car again and headed for our next destination. Actually, I had no clue where we were going.

"Is this destination a surprise, too?"

"Not exactly." He pulled into a deck and soon parked amongst what I noted to be ridiculously expensive cars.

"Holy shit, is that a Maserati?"

"Let's head in, shall we?" I heard amusement in his tone, but I was too busy pressing my nose to the window to get a better look at the vehicular embodiment of sex parked three whips down.

My door opened and I nearly fell right onto my face, but Elliott caught me by the arm and straightened me up. I'd gotten so momentarily caught up in his eyes again that I hadn't thought to wonder where we had arrived and where he was taking me. I was, however, acutely aware of the hand that was leading me toward a lift of some sort, though.

Fast forward about five minutes and we're ascending in one of the classiest elevators (after the one at Grimme Enterprises) I had ever had the pleasure of riding in. Not that it was all that easy to be in a such a small space with this man. My only saving grace had been a little old woman cradling a yorkie to her chest. She departed too soon and the moment the doors had whirred shut again, I could feel Elliott's gaze bore into me.

The two of us stepped into pure luxury, and I am talking marble, rich woods, orientals, the whole nine yards. The loft I shared with Jung could have easily fit inside it twice over, and the minute my shoes were off, I was wandering forward to descend into the living room.

I spied a sleek, modern kitchen and what looked to be a study farther down the hall, but my main fascination was with the seating arrangements. Just as was to be expected, they felt like heaven, too. My hands stroked over every fabric that came into my vicinity and for several moments I found myself wondering what sort of life Elliott Grimme had lived up until now.

Everything about his penthouse screamed luxury and comfort - but it didn't feel lived in.

Lifting my gaze to meet his, what I found there was intense. Elliott looked like he wanted to sink his teeth into me and then some. I barely had the chance to ask before he was closing the distance between us.

It felt like fire, warmth spreading from where his lips found mine, and before I could convince myself to break away, it was too late. My fingers had disappeared into his silky obsidian waves. He scooped me up, then, managing all of my weight as if I weighed no more than a feather, and walked me across the room. We spilled over onto the Chaise, Elliott drawing me into another fiery kiss, his form looming over mine, hand hitching one of my legs up over his hip. My hands slid beneath his shirt, fingertips discovering defined muscle beneath velvety smooth skin. I whined when he broke away, breathing against his lips. My breath caught when his fingertips popped free the closure of my jeans, hand sliding its way into the front of my Calvin Klein's. Oh, God, _he was touching me._

"Ezra," He began, pressing a kiss just below my ear, then my jaw. I sighed when those lips brushed my neck and felt his teeth graze flesh. "I want you to be mine."

"What?" I was only half-listening.

Elliott's fingers had begun to stroke at sensitive flesh. His palm felt hot where it had closed about me, and I arched away from the chaise, reaching for his wrist. He started with even strokes, fingers working me up into a steady pant, free hand pushing my shirt all the way up to reveal my pale flesh.

He laid soft bites to my skin, from my chest, to my ribs, and ventured as far as my navel, fingers tugging my fly the rest of the way open. I made the mistake of looking. My hips had begun to roll in compliment to his hand, but his strokes were torturously slow, the pad of his thumb teasing me in a way that elicited the first moan to leave my lips.

He swallowed it, lips closing over mine to lure me deep into another kiss. I begged with my hips, practically melting when his mouth left mine to instead close over one of my nipples, tongue flicking over the jewellery that pierced it and teeth catching the sensitive flesh.

" _Elliott, please--"_ I groaned.

And just like that, he'd released me.

I lay there wide-eyed, panting, unfulfilled. _No!_

"Ezraeil. . ." He began, straightening up, dropping the hem of the shirt I'd managed to pull halfway up. "If you were mine, I'd give you what you want, but not a moment before." The way he said 'want' sounded a lot more like 'need' to me. The look in his eye was dark and it sent a thrill through me. There was a hunger contained there that drew me in, and I knew the moment I'd heard him speak my name that the game was over. He wasn't playing anymore.

"And if I said yes?"

Elliott Grimme fixed me with a devilish smile, the sort that my mother had often warned me about in the days of my youth. In the depths of his eyes danced a fire just begging to be toyed with, and I was a poster child for reckless behaviour. I wanted him to brand me with it - with all the desire reflected in his gaze. He was looking at me the way nobody ever had.

_He looked like he wanted to eat me alive._


End file.
